


Cloak & Pliers

by Loolph



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 10 Quotes Challenge, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, BAMF Phil Coulson, First Meetings, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Movie Quotation(s), POV Tony Stark, Quote Challenge, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loolph/pseuds/Loolph
Summary: What a first meeting of super hero with least secret secret identity and a doctor fluent in sarcasm and mystic arts would have looked like?





	Cloak & Pliers

A giant blue circle had materialized on one of the walls in Stark’s workshop.

A tall, handsome brunette man with some white strides on his temples and quite impressive facial hair, if Tony was to say so himself, wearing odd monk like jacket and honest to God cape flew inside and looked around with disdain, like he owned the place. Plump, Asian descent looking man followed him, simply on foot. He stood his ground, hands in plain sight, posture humble but oozing competence, once he reached agents Sitwell, frozen in place by surprise and Coulson, his pimped up StarkTazer drawn instinctively on the intruder.

Since Tony wasn’t phased with anything less than nuclear bomb these days, he was already in the process of suiting up, just after the portal had opened. Now, wearing the most vital parts of his armor, he simply flown with as much showing off as possible in such small space to face his visitor, leaving his mask open.

“I am Iron Man. What is your name, mister…?” he asked, aiming his hands at the man, repulsors ready.

“Doctor!” The man corrected him instantly.

“Mister Doctor?” Stark said, playing confused.

“It’s Strange.” The dark haired sighed, like he had this conversation before.

“Maybe. Who am I to judge?” Tony was having a blast. Or he will be, if the dude won’t ease up with the condescending.

The Asian man loudly cleared his throat. The sound had so much meaning, that it almost carried volumes. Like in a library.

Agent Coulson was impressed.

“Mr Stark, I know who you are.” Doctor Strange apparently sagged a little, trying for polite tone, but missed terribly once he continued with the lecture. “But, while heroes like the Avengers protect the world from physical dangers, we, sorcerers safeguard it against more mystical threats.” He gestured to himself and his silent companion. “Word of the Ancient One’s death had spread through the Multiverse. Earth has no Sorcerer Supreme to defend it. We must be ready.”

That was the most pathetic attempt of asking for help Tony has ever seen. And that included listening to himself, thank you very much. He understood the grievance of the situation, but was not going to make it easy for this guy.

“We’ll be ready. And you’re welcome, I guess.” He shrugged nonchalantly, not an easy thing while wearing a suit of armor, mind you. But Tony was good like that.

“For what?” The sorcerer's face scolded.

“Because I’m your nuclear deterrent. It’s working. We’re safe. America is secure, so is the world.” Stark gestured wildly towards himself and his surroundings. “You want my help, my team, my property? You can’t have it, just like that. But I did you a big favor. I’ve successfully privatized world peace.” He ended his tirade with blowing a kiss at Strange and then doing peace signs with both his hands.

“You really think that just because you have an idea, it belongs to you?” Doctor’s disbelieve at the level of cluelessness the man opposite from him represented was clear in his voice.

That question struck too close to a wreck of a home for Tony and it must’ve shown.

“I don’t believe in fairytales about chakras or energy or the power of belief.” The answer bore some steel hard undertones of finality and fuck-you-buddy-ness.

Strange’s face became unreadable, like his mind went to another place and time for a second, as well.

“I once stood in your place. And I, too, was… disrespectful. So, might I offer you some advice?” He said quietly, like with great difficulty. “Arrogance and fear still keep you from learning the simplest and most significant lesson of all.” He sounded sad and sincere.

“Which is?” Stark nearly snarled.

“It’s not about you. You are institutionally incapable of being responsible.” Benighted ignorant, Strange thought, smirking gravely.

“You became a doctor to save one life above all others. Your own.” Patronizing show-off, Stark thought, grinning wild around the edges.

 

“Oh, no, they’re smiling.” Sitwell shook his head and shrugged, turning to Coulson in a show of exasperation and defeat. “What’s going on here?”

“Let’s face it, Sitwell, this is not the worst thing we’ve caught him doing.” The other agent deadpanned.

“Yes, it is refreshing to finally see him with his clothes on for a dick measuring contest.” They both sighed and switched their attention to the only other, silently standing man.

“This is Agent Jasper Sitwell and I’m Agent Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.” Coulson proclaimed, never shifting his gun off his target, while Jasper had shown his badge with professional ease.

“That’s quite a mouthful, agent Coulson.” Asian’s man voice was even, not a hint that this stand off had effected him in any way. “I am Wong.” He introduced himself with a tiny bow.

“I know. We’re working on it.” Phil raised one shoulder casually, not changing his aim. “If you try to escape, or play any sort of games with me, I will taze you and watch <<Supernanny>> while you drool into the carpet.” He had other innocently looking creatures acquaint themselves with him with less threatening names. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Mr Wong.” He wasn’t fooled anymore and wasn’t putting his guard down for anything. “Please, don’t move, even I don’t know, what it does.” A small and evil smile was playing at his lips.

“Call me Wong. And, I know, what it does.” An equally dim and ominous quirk was tilting Wong’s mouth.

Something, like a camaraderie of spirits in HR hell or understanding between people who work for other people with egos blown out of proportion and cleaning their shit every day all day passed between the two in an instance.

“Just Wong? Like Adele? Or Aristotle. Drake. Bono… Eminem.” Jasper budded in, missing the whole mystic slash bureaucratic understanding of souls.

“Sitwell…” Coulson sighed, holstering his tazer.

“You’ll need this, agents.” Wong produced a card and extended it to the suited men.

“Well, what’s this? My mantra?” Jasper eyed it suspiciously.

“My email, Agent Sitwell.” This time, Wong’s tone sounded exasperated, like he had said it many times before. “We’re not savages.”

Wong turned on his hill, produced a new blue wormhole midair, all by himself and simply left the room.

  
The ceiling's high staring contest was getting pretty boring pretty fast, in Tony’s mind. He wasn’t that good with meaningful silence anyway and it sure looked like Strange’s forte, so no go. Tony will not give this guy any more satisfaction.

Both men missed the Stark robot’s fascination with the way Doctor’s cape was moving. It had watched intently from a distance, but constant flow of the fabric seemed to hypnotize the machine and made it roll closer and extent an arm, all almost like without conscious intend. The cloak felt a careful touch of a hook like grip and was intrigued with its source, so it whirled excitedly, which lead to more touching, which resulted in more swirling and so on.

“How come you are floating around in my workshop?” Tony asked, distracted by the way Strange’s cape was behaving.

“My cloak. It’s a relic.” Doctor answered, struggling a bit with his overactive attire. “Some magic is too powerful to sustain so we imbue objects with it, allowing them to take the strain we cannot. This is the Cloak of Levitation.” He tried to gather it into more elegant and stable form, but was unsuccessful. “There are many relics. The Eye of Agamotto…” His voice was cut short with a particularly strong pull of the fabric.

“The names really just roll off the tongue, don’t they?” Tony didn’t even try to contain his amusement. Suddenly, he heard a suspicious hiss. He was hoping he was wrong about its origin and decided to ignore it.

“My turn. What are you doing here?” Strange was asking now and staring intently at Tony’s feet.

“I’m doing Iron Man’s suit Mark 42. It’s a hi-tech ceramic and silicon infused prosthesis that tastes like coconut… and metal!” Stark was talking steadily to cover the fact that his hovering altitude was decreasing fast. “That’s actually the most apt description I can make of it.” Damn, he knew he recognized that hiss.

“That’s kind of catchy, but it’s not technically accurate.” The sorcerer was being lowered as well, as he spoke. “The suit’s clearly a gold titanium alloy from the seraphim tactical satellite, judging from fuselage integrity while maintaining power-to-weight ration.” It would have looked dignifying and deliberate, but he was also steadily being pulled backwards. “A little dark hotrod in there under the gold is a little ostentatious, don’t you think?” Sarcasm in his voice couldn’t quite cover being chocked by his own cape.

“What was I thinking? I’m usually so discreet. It helps me to keep a low profile.” Tony tried for irony as he spoke, but he too landed not so gracefully. In his defense, the repulsors in his feet were covered entirely with white extinguisher’s foam.

“Of course it does. But I wasn’t asking about the suit. What’s that doing to my cloak?” The Doctor pointed at his magical attire covered generously in fire retardant bubbles, which the cloak seemed to be playing with with delight. The robot waving a red cylinder decided that he was done with it for now and proceeded with lovingly covering the rest of Tony Stark.

“You!” The burst took the man by surprise. “I swear to God. I’ll dismantle you!” He shouted, annoyed. “I’ll soak your motherboard, turn you into a wine rack!” He continued, while trying to doge still foaming hose. “It’s A.I. robotic not-so-helping hand slash pliers’ machine on the endless fire safety loop.” He gave up and took the last blow of froth in the face. “It’s Dumm-E.”

“Maybe. Who am I to judge?” Strange smiled sweetly.

The End.


End file.
